


Trials of Courtship

by Faded_and_Fleeting



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe — Royalty, Day 7: Royalty//Clones, Knight Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Prince Keith (Voltron), Romelle and Allura are two of Keith's sisters, Sheith Month 2018, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 01:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15231984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faded_and_Fleeting/pseuds/Faded_and_Fleeting
Summary: After meeting with the prince of the Northern Ghost Flame, Keith finds roses on his bed and makes assumptions.





	Trials of Courtship

**Author's Note:**

> I was initially late on this, but here's day 7 of @sheithmonth.

Keith frowns at his mother and sisters, crossing his arms over his chest. They’ve been happily discussing the arrival of the coming prince, wondering among themselves if he is truly as handsome and as charming as the rumors make him out to be. With a roll of his eyes and the click of his tongue, Keith turns and exits the waiting chamber and treads to the main entry hall on his own.

He’s not in the mood for this. Not today. He doesn’t need to be asked to do another braid, tie another ribbon, or fasten another hair clip into place. He’d rather strangle himself than mess with his sisters’ hair again.

Past suitors have proven to be just as stupid as the last, and he always dreads these first meetings because of the awkward, uncomfortable, and insensitive comment that so often comes from the mouths of foreign visitors in one of two forms, the first of them being,  _“I thought the High Queen had three daughters—not four.”_  The second comment, which is always more irritating than the first, is something along the lines of, _“Where might the prince be? I see only a line of lovely princesses.”_

Most times, Keith just ignores their offhanded comments and strides out of the room, finding solace within his private bedchamber where he can seethe in private. Now, he just smiles. It is a smile so sinister and unnerving it has the foreign suitors running back to their homelands with their tails between their legs.

He loathes being mistaken for a woman—he is a man, through and through—and he hates being called pretty. Keith is a man, and if there’s any comment to his physical appearance made, he wants that comment to be something along the lines of,  _“My, isn’t he handsome!”_

He opens the doors to the main entry hall and approaches his waiting mother, taking his designated seat beside her. He crosses on leg over the other as he leans back in his ornately decorated chair, folding his hands neatly in his lap, biting back a scowl as his sisters file into the room. Their usual chatter echoes through the grand hall and eases the tension that had mounted itself the second Keith entered that hall, his presence a clear reminder to the entire palace court of what happens when new suitors arrive.

His mother reaches over and gently squeezes his hand. It’s supposed to be reassuring and comforting, but it does nothing to soothe Keith’s already foul mood. Keith hardly spares her a glance, forcing a smile to grace his lips the moment horns sound the arrival of the coming prince, exhaling a sigh through his nose.

The doors swing open. A young herald approaches to announce the prince’s arrival and steps aside to make way for him and his impressive royal entourage. They kneel before the High Queen and her children, and only the prince returns to stand. His eyes skim briefly over the faces of the royal family of the Southern Ghost Flame and— _oh_.

Keith resists the urge to scowl as he feels the prince’s eyes settle on him. He knows what comes next. It always comes next.

“Dearest Prince of the Northern Ghost Flame, that you should grace our lands with your presence is truly an honor,” the High Queen addresses him kindly. It successfully diverts the prince’s attention away from Keith.

The prince smiles at her and opens his mouth to speak. His voice is honey sweet and smooth as silk. “It is an honor that you would have me, Your Majesty. I can think of no higher honor.”

“You’ve been raised well,” the High Queen notes. “Now, let us not waste time. There are important matters that I must tend to shortly after this meeting. You come to my home in search of a bride, do you not? Who is it that currently grasps your attention?”

The prince straightens his posture. His eyes fall not upon Keith, but upon Romelle, the youngest of his three older sisters. “Well, I certainly did not expect the youngest daughter to be so striking.”

Keith sags in relief.

“She takes well after me,” the High Queen grins.

“I would think so,” the prince chuckles. “Indeed, your family is much more striking in person than in the portraits I have seen. Alas, not even the most renowned painter can replicate your family’s collective beauty.”

Keith’s sisters giggle in delight at the prince’s graceful way of speech, but Keith can only narrow his eyes. A thick air of suspicion hangs tense around his form and his mother feels it, squeezing his hand gently once more as a silent gesture telling him to ease up a bit, but he can’t. The prince is too flirtatious, too charming, too perfect. Keith doesn’t doubt that he has an infinite amount of suitors and admirers on hand, and yet he’s here in the Southern Ghost Flame.

He wants something more than a bride. He wants something pretty to add to his collection.

“Romelle, I would like for you to escort the prince and his entourage to their guest chambers. As for the rest of you, you may return to your duties.”

Keith is up and out of the entry hall before she can say anything more.

_Oh, thank god._

—

Keith returns to his bedchamber to find a bundle of roses placed neatly by his pillow. Curious, he picks the bundle up, expecting to see a small, heartfelt declaration of love attached to it. It’s a common thing, these days. Keith has more servants pining after him than he cares to count. However, there is no message, no typical declaration. It’s just roses.

He calls for one of the nearest servants.

“Katie,” he greets. She bows in return.

“You needed to see me?” she asks, and Keith holds up the roses.

“Did you happen to see who left these in my room?”

Katie shakes her head. “I’m afraid not. However, Hunk says he saw someone lurking about earlier. Shall I fetch him for you?”

Keith holds up his hand. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll go to him myself. Where was he seen last?”

“I believe he was in the stables tending to the horses.”

Keith makes a mental note of that and nods. “Very well. I’ll go to him shortly. Thank you, Katie.”

“Is there anything else you might need, Your Highness?”

Keith shakes his head and gently ushers her out of his room. “That won’t be necessary. You may return to what you were previously doing.”

Katie bows her head and leaves. Keith focuses his attention on the bundle currently cradled in his arms and huffs. If this was another servant, they’re wasting their time. He has no desire to court or be courted.

He storms out of his room and travels down to the stables to find Hunk. He spots the man in the doorway tending to one of Keith’s hunting dog and approaches him. Hunk immediately notices his presence and bows.

“My Lord,” he greets.

“Hunk,” Keith replies with a brief nod.

“What is it that brings you to the stables? Another bout of hunting?” Hunk asks.

“I wish,” Keith snorts. He gestures to the roses in his arms, and Hunk immediately gets it.

“You come seeking the one who left the roses.”

Keith nods, eyes narrowing. “Katie says that you saw someone lurking about my private hall.”

“I did,” Hunk confirms. “Though I could not see his face, I saw the armor he wore and the crest of the Northern Ghost Flame emblazoned on his breastplate.”

Keith scoffs. “Someone sent from the prince’s entourage, then.” He extends the flowers to Hunk. “Take these and get rid of them. I refuse to accept gifts from the very man who wishes to court my sister. I will not be made part of a scandal and have my sister’s reputation tarnished should word of this get around.”

Hunk takes the flowers with an uneasy smile. “Of course, My Lord. I will dispose of them right away.”

“Thank you, Hunk.”

—

The next day, he finds more roses. They’re resting in the same spot as the last bundle, bright and beautiful and freshly cut. There’s a little note attached to it that Keith does not even bother to read.

He takes the flowers into his arms and leaves his room to track down one of the house servants. He spots Katie just down the way polishing a couple of shelves and strides over to her. Before she can say anything, he shoves the flowers into her chest, growling, “Get rid of these.  _Now._ ”

“Yes, My Lord,” she stammers, dropping her cleaning rag as she rushes to dispose of the bouquet.

—

By the third day, it’s already gotten old. Keith is exhausted from his spar session with Lotor, the nation’s military general, and just wants to rest. To find another bouquet of roses lying next to his pillows sends an ungodly surge of anger straight through his bloodstream. He clenches his teeth and he snatches the flowers from his bed, walking towards the nearest window with the full intention of throwing them out before a small hand closes around his arm.

“My Lord, your bath is ready.” It’s Katie.

He sighs and turns around, handing the flowers off to her. “Thank you, Katie. Now, please dispose of these for me.”

Katie purses her lips slightly as she examines the flowers and the little message attached to it. “Are you sure you would like me to dispose of these?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No, My Lord.”

“Then dispose of them like I asked.”

—

Two weeks in and the roses just keep on coming. They come with messages Keith does not care to read and precious gifts that he doesn’t want, but can’t exactly find it in himself to get rid of. They’re fragile, expensive little things. Little ceramic figurines grace his dressers and his shelf with his jewelry collection only grows larger with each new addition. It’s frustrating because he wants so badly to throw them out, but it would be such a waste of money.

He’s tired of this little charade and decides that he’s going to catch the culprit behind the flowers and finally tell them that this all needs to stop, that he isn’t looking to be courted and that their energies should be put to better use than trying to win over an unwilling heart.

He hides away in his closet, ever so often peering through the small crack in the door whenever there are footsteps in his room. It usually turns out to be Katie or one of the other house servants scrambling to finish their assigned tasks. He huffs quietly and he lowers himself to sit on the floor, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s nothing out of the ordinary happening here. The servants come in, go about their duties, and leave. It’s a monotonous pattern and Keith finds himself bored as he waits and watches.

The room is just starting to get dark when he hears the door creak open. Keith exhales silently as he lifts his head and peers through the crack, eyes zeroing in on the figure cautiously pacing through his room. He’s a tall man, clad in heavy steel armor. The crest of the Northern Ghost Flame is displayed proudly on his breastplate, just as Hunk said. A simple silver circlet rests on his head, and white tufts of hair sit pretty over his eyes. He’s holding a very familiar bouquet of red roses.

Keith watches as the figure approaches his bedside and lays the roses beside his pillow in the same fashion he’s seen them placed, and he knows. He finds himself standing up and shoving the door open before the figure even stands upright. The door slams against the wall behind it and the man flinches, turning hesitantly and staring down at Keith, horrified.

“So you’ve been the one leaving these here,” Keith snarls.

“I— Your Highness, I can explain,” the man tries, but Keith holds a hand up to silence him.

“I don’t have time to hear your petty explanation,” Keith says. “Take those flowers and leave my presence at once!”

The man across from him stands there, a tinge of hurt flashing across his eyes. “Your Highness, I bought. them here for you”

“At the command of your prince,” Keith scoffs. “Take them and leave. Now.”

“Forgive me, but I will do no such thing until you’ve accepted them.”

“I refuse to accept an offering of obvious courtship from the man who is to marry my sister!”

“You misunderstand, Your Highness. They’re not from him.”

Keith stops short, taking a few staggering steps backward. “Not from— Then who?” he demands. He glances at the flowers warily. “Who are they from?”

The man averts his gaze. “Would it change your reaction if I said it was me?” he admits, almost sounding guilty. Keith swears he can see the flush rise to the man’s cheeks as he takes the roses from the bed and holds them out to him. Keith exhales as if the wind had just been knocked out of him.

“You?” Keith stammers. His eyes briefly fall to the roses the man holds out to him before he warily lifts his gaze to meet the man’s eyes. His hesitation speaks volumes to the stranger, who looks away from him sadly and retracts the roses.

“I suppose not, then,” he whispers. “I apologize. I’ll take them and be on my—”

“No, wait,” Keith stops him. He reaches forward and carefully takes the roses from the man’s arms. He looks a little unsure, but Keith regards him with a smile. “I think I’ll keep them.”

“You will?”

“Well, they are beautiful roses,” Keith admits. “And while I don’t particularly fancy these kinds of gestures of affection, if they’re from you, and not from Romelle’s fiance, I’m a bit more willing to accept them.”

“You— You are?” the man chokes.

“You seem to get flustered rather easily,” Keith notes, laughing at the way the man goes completely red. “Thank you for the roses. They are very pretty. However, I will have to ask you to leave my room for now.”

“Will I get to see you again?” the man asks.

“Only if I get to know your name before you leave.”

The man beams. “It’s Shiro.”

—

The man—Shiro, Keith reminds himself—comes to visit him every day after that, and each day he brings more roses and more gifts. Keith comes to find it rather endearing. The visits last no longer than a few short minutes, which Shiro often spends stumbling over his words as he tells Keith about how beautiful he thinks he is and tripping over his own two feet whenever Keith gives him the slightest of smiles. Keith likes to tease him about it.

“Your cheeks are all red again,” he muses, leaning closer to Shiro who’s sitting just beside him.

Shiro scrambles to his feet. “I should— I should go,” he sputters.

“Already?” Keith grins. “But you’ve hardly just gotten here.”

“I, uh, I have to go to a meeting.”

Keith raises an eyebrow as he sets the most recent bouquet of roses aside and leans forward. “And just what kind of meeting do you have to go to?”

Shiro pales. “Um, a military conference?”

“You just went to one yesterday,” Keith reminds him.

“Well, there’s another one being held today.”

“And you’re sure about that?”

Shiro averts his gaze. “I— Yes?”

Keith chuckles as he pushes himself up from the bed and approaches Shiro. Shiro swallows thickly, taking a few staggering steps backward until he presses into something hard. He turns his head and internally curses. He’s been backed into a wall.

“That so?” Keith murmurs. “Because last time I checked, you and your comrades were free of all knightly duties until the day of my sister’s wedding.”

“Who told you that?”

“My eldest sister, Allura.”

“Damn it.”

Keith throws his head back and laughs. “Language, Shiro.”

“As if you’ve never cursed,” Shiro bites back playfully.

“Oh, no, you caught me,” Keith feigns a dramatic gasp as he brings a hand to his chest. “Whatever shall I do?”

Shiro rests his eyes on Keith’s face, and whatever confidence he previously lacked suddenly rises to the surface. He steps forward and clasps a hand on Keith’s shoulder, while the other curls around the back of Keith’s neck. “Looks like you need to be punished.”

Keith laughs joyously as Shiro leans down to join their lips.

—

Keith wakes up to find Shiro at his bedside, more roses in hand. He’s been ill the last couple of days, running a dangerously high fever, and has been on strict bed rest by order of the High Queen. Katie comes in every couple of hours to check up on him and to bring him his meals.

Shiro normally visits around dinner time, so it’s a bit strange for Keith to see him here so early in the morning. Still, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate the company. He groans as he props himself up on his elbows, pursing his lips as a weight on his shoulder forces him back down.

“You should be resting, Your Highness.”

“Didn’t I tell you to call me by my actual name?” Keith huffs.

“Sorry,” Shiro smiles. “I’m used to the title.”

“I can tell.” Keith shifts, turning onto his side so he can better see Shiro. “What are you doing? You never come to visit me so early in the day.”

“I’ve been worried,” Shiro replies, reaching out to brush some hair from Keith’s face. “Katie told me your fever has gotten worse.”

“It’s not uncommon for me to get sick around this time of the year. Here in the South, our bodies are not accustomed to the cold.”

“All the more reason you should rest,” Shiro murmurs.

“Shiro, I’m fine,” Keith argues. “It’s just a little fever.”

“A little fever, perhaps, but I’m sure your family would much prefer it if you recovered soon.”

“Shiro—”

“ _I_  would prefer it if you recovered soon.”

Keith exhales steadily and closes his eyes. “But why are you so worried for me? I told you that I’m alright.”

“Would you be mad if I said it’s because I’ve fallen in love with you?” Shiro whispers, averting his gaze the moment Keith looks up at him.

Keith blinks, looking up at Shiro with widened eyes. Seeing the reddish hue that spreads across the man’s cheeks and the way he nervously fidgets with the roses in his hands, Keith understands that Shiro is being completely serious.

“Why would I be mad?” Keith asks.

“Well,” Shiro sighs, shoulders slumping, “you were really upset about the roses for a long time. You always ordered one of your servants to dispose of them upon finding them because you didn’t want to be courted.”

“You knew about that?”

“Your servants like to gossip,” Shiro admits. “And I’m a bit nosy.”

Keith purses his lips slightly. “Well, you’re right, in a way. I didn’t know who they were from and assumed them to be from Romelle’s fiance. I didn’t want to have her image ruined should word have gotten out about her fiance courting her brother behind her back.”

“But that’s not all, is it?” Shiro sighs. “You didn’t want to be courted by someone who thought to treat you as a mere decoration or trophy.”

“How did you—”

“I told you, your servants like to gossip, and I’m just a bit too nosy for my own good.” Shiro reaches down and rests his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Keith, I will tell you right now that the thought of such things has never crossed my mind. My first thought upon seeing you was, ‘I want to make him happy. I want him to me mine.’”

“Shiro—”

“I even went to one of your sisters and asked her if there was a way to your heart, and she warned me that you did not want to be courted and that it would be a pointless endeavor. But I kept trying. I didn’t let your anger discourage me, even though I probably should have.”

“Shiro—”

“I couldn’t keep myself away from you. I cannot tell you how many nights I’ve spent just wondering what you looked like when you smiled and imagining how you sounded when you laughed. Whenever you went for a walk in the gardens I’d perch myself in the window above just so I could admire you. I went around asking your sisters about what you like and dislike, about your hobbies, about your incredible war stories. I wanted to know everything, but I never had the courage to talk to you because—”

“Shiro!” Keith all but shouts, effectively grabbing Shiro’s attention and cutting off the endless string of words that tumble from his lips.

“I— Sorry, that was too much,” Shiro sighs. “I should go and—”

“What if I told you that I’ve fallen for you as well?”


End file.
